


Build Your Walls (I'll Tear Them Down)

by context_please



Series: A Million Little Pieces - Drabbles for Macx's Pushing Boundaries Series [9]
Category: Jurassic Park (Movies), Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Bromance, Gen, I can't leave OCs alone in peace, Laurel and Josh are BFFs, Psychic Abilities, This is a tribute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 23:49:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4412741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/context_please/pseuds/context_please
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sue isn’t some cuddly soft-toy they sell at the Merch shops. She’s not like the cats and dogs all preternaturally talented kids practice with.</p><p>A drabble for Macx's Threshold Shift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Build Your Walls (I'll Tear Them Down)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Macx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Threshold Shift](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4242024) by [Macx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx). 



> I'm back for more! Sorry about the wait.
> 
> Have part two of the Josh/Laurel bromance fest! Part 1 is Family Crest, so feel free to go read that if you want a more comprehensive view of the two of them.
> 
> These OCs belong to Macx, who is awesome as always for letting me abduct them. For the sake of your continued good health, you should go read Tainted and Threshold Shift. You may understand this without it, but I'm not guaranteeing anything.

‘Don’t hurt him!’

Laurel’s throat aches with the shout. She can’t hear the pounding of her feet through the whooshing in her ears, but she can feel it. The concrete is hard and unyielding beneath her heel, each impact jolting up her legs like electricity. Hair whips wildly around her face, catching in her mouth and eyes. Growling a little with frustration, she swipes it away, focused on her goal.

‘Tommy, get away from him!’ she shouts, putting all the authority she can muster into her voice. Between the breathlessness and the distance, she’s not sure it comes across.

Her feet hit grass, the jolting in her legs easing. Mustering all the strength she has, Laurel puts on a last-ditch burst of speed. Her shoes slide precariously on the grass. Righting herself, she doesn’t bother shouting again.

‘Stop it, Tommy,’ she pants, skidding to a halt. His face is scrunched up, freckles tracking across his skin like tiny lizard footprints, teeth all crooked and disgusting. He’s shorter than her, broader. His shoulders are stocky like the rest of him, and he hits harder. Tommy’s little gang mill about behind him. Most of them are gangly, haven’t filled out their newfound height. They take a step closer as she pulls to a stop, spreading out like an honour guard. If the forest weren’t at her back, they would form a circle. Laurel’s just glad the trees stop them from coming any closer. If it gives her the upper hand, she’ll take it.

‘You shouldn’t be out here, Tommy,’ she barks. ‘If the teachers find you here, you’ll get suspended.’

‘Oh no,’ he sneers, pushing into her space. ‘They’ll send me home for a week and I get to skip homework and play Xbox! Please don’t tell on me!’ He waves his arms in the air, making a terrible show of being horrified. His gang bursts into laughter as he drops the act and levels her with a mocking smirk.

Laurel sneers right back. ‘I guess you should tell your dad why you’re kicking a helpless animal,’ she growls. ‘Maybe he can teach you how to be a _real_ man.’

Tommy goes pale. His freckles are vivid orange without the blotchy red of fury on his cheeks. His mouth slackens and his eyes are wide, the smirk on his face nowhere to be seen. Tommy should be scared. His dad isn’t the mayor, but he’s very important to the town. He’s the best vet in the area, owns the biggest clinic. The residents trust him to take care of their animals – big and small. There are so many farms in the area; Tommy’s dad is probably rich. Laurel’s family even calls him out sometimes to check up on their horses. He was there last year for the birth of Laurel’s colt Keji. His dad is always nice, always polite, and loves animals. Sometimes she finds it hard to believe Tommy is his son.

As she lets the realization sink in, Laurel risks a glance behind her.

Fiery red fur is a vivid splash of wine against the green field.  Laurel accidentally spilled a glass of cordial all over the living room floor once – the utter surprise and contrast of the two against each other leap into her memory. The fox kit is trying his hardest to nestle into the grass, to lessen his profile, but he can’t. Even this close to the forest, the grass is cropped too short. The fox kit himself is too big anyway – he must be a good three months old – old enough to leave his mother for short outings. Old enough to find himself in a strange world surrounded by giants with booming voices. He squirms fitfully, pathetic little cries crawling from his chest. His eyes are rolling around wildly, orange barely distinguishable from the rest of his hide, and he can’t seem to focus on anything. Legs twitch uselessly, aside from his left foreleg. It’s bent funny, all angles where there should be straight lines.

Something wells up in her chest. Something familiar, pushing at her aching ribs. Her lungs are trying to ooze out of the gaps between them, but she won’t let that happen.

‘What are you gonna do about it?’ Tommy demands, all traces of teasing gone. He’s just watching her, sizing her up.

Laurel snorts. Emotions hit her back like a physical blow, radiating from the kit. She feels his pain like it’s hers – feels his terror, his confusion, his sudden nausea. It’s strange. Her stomach rolls haphazardly, heart beating viciously against her ribs, and her head is suddenly stuffed full of tissues.

Tommy’s eyes are on her, and she sees the moment he thinks she’ll be easy to beat. Laurel has three brothers – she’s not backing down. She’ll fight till the end. She’s a Shepperd: she’s never going to cower. If there’s one thing her dad taught her, it’s that she can do anything. _Don’t let anything get in the way_ , he says. _It doesn’t matter if you’re a girl or a boy or a pink striped cow: don’t let people push you around._ Laurel isn’t some tiny girl that needs protection. She’s whoever she wants to be, and at the moment, she’s a badass warrior.

‘This!’ she snaps, putting her fist in his face. She expects the pain that shocks up from her knuckles, but she expected more of it. The fox kit’s pain is clamoring at her mind, and she desperately shoves him back. Luckily, he’s too confused to put up a real fight, and he backs down easily. Laurel blinks unclouded eyes just in time to see the fist aiming for her mouth.

She ducks, catching the blow on the top of her head. The impact rattles through her skull but she dives forward, throwing a surprised Tommy into the bright green grass. She plants her fist in his face again, the smack of flesh-on-flesh incredibly satisfying.

The rest of Tommy’s gang closes in around them, laughing and jeering, and Laurel welcomes it. She can do anything, after all.

 

 

 

 

 

‘You shouldn’t have hit him,’ her mother scolds.

They are only people in the vet clinic and it’s cool and quiet around them. Her mother’s face is red with fury, hair tangling like snakes on her head. Her voice is rough like dad’s cheeks and harsh like sunburn on her back.

Laurel sits silently and takes her anger.

A bright spark snuffs out in exam room two. Laurel pushes her tears back and tries to listen to her mum’s yelling. Ignores the awful silence around her mind. The void that shouldn’t be empty.

She wonders if that’s what dying is like.

 

 

 

 

Laurel isn’t too fond of enforced leave.

So when she ends up in the kitchen of her childhood home, surrounded by her frighteningly loud family, it’s not exactly her idea of a good time. Mum spends two hours cooking up a storm, and it’s only for breakfast. She chats mindlessly as Laurel perches on a stool at the kitchen counter. They’ve redone the kitchen, she notes. What used to be wooden cabinets with odd patches of sorbet green and blue paints are now shiny whites and blacks. The counter under her elbows is a deep black, peppered with veins of grey and copper. The fridge is steel, cold as the room around it. Warm sunlight slants in through the windows, warming Laurel’s back, but her front is chilled. Colour and life has been replaced by modern precision. Laurel’s mother suddenly seems so out of place, in her threadbare orange nighty. Her brothers are dirtier than she ever remembers, her dad worn. The kitchen is clean lines and smooth surfaces and he is mottled skin and jagged wrinkles.

Laurel witnessed the flyers slaughter innocent tourists, but it’s less disturbing than this. Everyone at Jurassic World was expecting an incident – and the Indominus did not disappoint. Holding a tourist in her arms as she spilled her guts onto the floor and bled over Laurel’s legs is a stain she’ll never remove from her skin. Seeing her family worn and beaten is something she’ll carry in her soul. Her family has always promoted strength – _just be strong and you’ll be okay_. And here they are, frazzled to the point of insomnia, strength slipping just past their grasp.

Josh is the quietest, when he finally comes down the stairs. He doesn’t make loud jokes like her brothers, mutter constantly like mother, or clomp with heavy strides like her father. Josh merely slides in beside her, eyes fixed on Laurel’s mum. He hooks his leg around Laurel’s ankle, pressing in close to her side. Bile rises in her throat as she takes in his clenched hands, tendons in his forearms bulging. His shoulder slumps against hers, the slope of exhaustion. He’s squinting ever so slightly – probably still has a headache. Josh has always been sensitive to carnivores, always keeps such a tight lid on his control. But none of them had foreseen the Indominus Rex. Laurel spent the day after the chaos curled around Josh, keeping silent. She ran soothing fingers through his hair and forced lunch down his throat. Laurel didn’t turn the lights on – didn’t talk about the incident. She hadn’t felt the frantic minds of the dinosaurs – after the fox kit she’s never come that close to an animal again. But Josh did, and it hurt him. Emotions claw up her throat at the thought of it, and she hooks her arm around his. Offers him a bite of the bagel she’s not eating.

Josh smiles at her, nudging her shoulder. The bags under his eyes are dark grey, marring the skin of his face. Tension weaves across his eyebrows into the corner of his eyes, green iris slightly clouded. Exhaustion pulls at his lips, but he takes a bite of the bagel so she takes what she can get.

‘Laurel honey, are you sure your boyfriend doesn’t want a bagel for himself?’ Her mother is practically ogling them.

Laurel groans. ‘Mum, I’ve told you this a million times. We’re _not_ dating.’

Her eyebrows hit her hairline in record speed. ‘But he’s such a nice man, honey –‘

Josh’s side is warm and solid against her. He holds himself carefully, but it’s enough. There will always be a Josh-shaped space at her side – he’s the first day at Jurassic World, the Han Solo to her Chewbacca, the feel of her favourite sweater. He is complete and utter familiarity. ‘Yes,’ Josh says, ‘I make a fine boyfriend, Laurel. Your mother is a wise woman.’

‘Don’t you dare encourage them,’ she retorts, snatching the bagel back.

But he leans into her, glancing sidelong, and there’s a hint of mischief in his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

Sue is pissed. There’s a vivid red scrape on her jaw, just starting to swell, but Themming said it would heal well enough. She moves tenderly, unwilling to aggravate the injuries she inflicted on herself in her brief moment of mania.

Her mind has finally calmed, releasing Josh from his thrall. She’s tiny, self-contained. Sue is like a razor – seemingly harmless. But the potential to maim and damage is there. The potential to slice Josh’s mind in half.

If he keeps getting this close, keeps letting himself be drawn in, she will. Sue isn’t some cuddly soft-toy they sell at the Merch shops. She’s not like the cats and dogs all preternaturally talented kids practice with. Not like any of the carnivores Laurel’s worked with before. She has millions of years of evolution behind her. The instinct of the largest and fiercest predator of her time. Just because they practically gift-wrap goats for her each day doesn’t mean she’s lost her edge. Sometimes Laurel thinks the physical inactivity has honed her mental presence. Sue spends her days watching them – Josh, Laurel, the endless stream of tourists – and there’s no way she hasn’t put two and two together by now.

Laurel never gets too close – she learned her lesson long ago. So she watches Josh, keeps an eye on Sue. He can’t resist her. Can’t stay away. It’s like there’s something missing from his control mechanism, and it doesn’t work properly.

Josh is her family, now. He’s her brother. She watches out for him, offers her arms when he needs, and snarks right back at him. Laurel gives him everything, and Josh comes back with more. She presses an icepack to his aching head and cups his shoulder. If this isn’t shared blood, she doesn’t know what is.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay for an update from me! (Sorry about the wait, again. I suddenly had the urge to write for other fandoms but whipped this up as an apology.)


End file.
